


John Won't Put Up With Your Sheet

by Aida



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack-ish, Humor, Implied Pairing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was thinking about the infamous "sheet scene" that occurs in Scandal in Belgravia, and it came to me: What if the roles were reversed?</p><p>So here's the sheet scene, along with what occurs a bit beforehand, except our favorite ex-army Doctor John Hamish Watson is the one stuck just in a sheet and not Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John yawned, shuffling into the kitchen and clutching the sheet closer to his naked body. He grabbed his mug of tea, which had been steeping, and finally turned to the laptop on the kitchen table. The video call screen was open, and he was greeted by the lovely sight of his flatemate/colleague/partner’s face scowling at him, the countryside and a frustrated, balding detective serving as the background. 

“Remind me again why I’m the one here and you’re at the flat.” The consulting detective sneered. 

“Because you’re the great Sherlock Holmes who has kindly decided to take on this case.” John interjected tiredly, scooping up the laptop with his one free hand. 

Sherlock snorted at John’s tone as he set the laptop on the desk in the sitting room, back facing the client who was still recovering from shock. “You know I only like to leave the flat for cases that are higher than an eight.” 

“Well, we would be in different places if you hadn’t set off that smoke bomb in my room!” John hissed. “Because of you, all my clothes are yellow and stink of rotten eggs! Now I’m stuck starkers in nothing but a sheet! I would at least wear my bathrobe, but it seems _that’s_ disappeared, too!”

John couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore, even with a whole fleet of police officers hearing what he said on the other end and the man in his chair. He only started to feel it again when he took in Sherlock’s expression.

“Oh god,” John groaned, leaning back. “Please tell me you didn’t plan all this.”

“To be fair, I didn’t think we’d be getting a case this morning, and I was hoping for a naked lie-in.” Sherlock stated smoothly. “Besides, you could borrow some of my things.”

John sputtered. “Are you kidding, Sherlock!? Do you forget that you’re a tall twig sometimes?”

“It hasn’t stopped you from wearing my-.“

“ _Stop._ ” John said firmly, face turning pink. “Just… stop right there. We're forgetting our surroundings right now. Let’s just get this over with…”

“Yes. Quite.” Sherlock said. “I have a few ideas as to what happened, but I still need your medical opinion.”

“Hence the video conference, yes.” John filled in, urging Sherlock on. “Please hurry so I can maintain a bit of-.”

The buzzing of the doorbell cut him off. He turned his head. “Er, just a minute!” He called, turning back to the screen. “Sherlock, someone’s at the door. We need-.”

“They can wait.” Sherlock said, face disappearing as he turned the camera to the body. “Well?”

John let out a sigh. “Male, mid thirties. Hard to tell the age with the camera.”

“Another reason why you should be here.”

“Well, it’s illegal to go running around in just my birthday suit, Sherlock!” John hissed, wincing as the buzzer went off again.

“ _Shut up!_ ” Sherlock shouted into the microphone of his laptop, causing John to wince again. “Continue, John.”

John sighed. “Well…” He said, leaning into the screen. “It appears he suffered a blow to the head. Can you get closer?”

The image wobbled a bit and it zoomed into the prone figure. “Yeah, I’d say something thin and angled.” John concluded, leaning back again and adjusting the sheet around his person. “Wood, perhaps. Any sign of the murder weapon?”

The image shifted and Sherlock was once again on screen. “No, but I’ve put the pieces together already.” He said. “It’s obvious the idiot in our sitting room isn’t the murderer.”

“What?” Said “idiot” replied. 

“Sorry! Sorry, he didn’t mean that!” John said, turning to the man and waving it off. He then glared back at Sherlock. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh, please.” Sherlock said. “It’s not like he’s capable, what with-“

“I'm warning you, Sherlock.” John hissed, pointing his finger down at the keyboard. “There _is_ a mute button, and I _will_ use it! So please behave!”

Sherlock’s eyes seemed to roll. “Yes, doctor.” He said. “I’ll just give my findings to the nice _detectives_ , then. I admit, I’m pleased that I will be returning home sooner than…”

Sherlock trailed off, and John could hear the sound of a helicopter landing in the background. 

“Oh, lucky day.” Sherlock groused. “I’m afraid you’re about to receive company, John.”

“What-? Sherlock!” John hissed as the screen suddenly went black. He cursed, trying to reconnect and try to figure out what was going on when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Feeling his face heat, he immediately moved to gather the sheets tighter around his person as Mrs. Hudson appeared in the sitting room accompanied by a couple of men in neat, expensive suits.

“John, it appears that you have visitors.” Mrs. Hudson said. “I do apologize. Sherlock must have done something to… Oh!”

John was sure he was tomato when Mrs. Hudson finally took in the state of his undress. “Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Gentlemen, I’m afraid that this is a really bad time.”

“Pardon me, Doctor Watson.” One of the men said, stepping forward. “But we must ask that you get dressed and come with us.”

John sighed, bowing his head and cursing Sherlock under his breath. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t. You see, my flatmate-.”

“Dressed or no, your presence is still needed.” The man persisted.

John felt hot, indignant anger brewing in his belly. “And if I refuse?”

“You don’t want to do that, Doctor Watson.” He said calmly.

John pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose. Eventually, after assessing the situation and the men, he stood. “Let me at least put some shoes on.” 

After donning some simple sandals, they escorted him downstairs and into a sleek black car waiting outside. Immediately, John knew Mycroft was involved. He just hoped they weren’t going to meet somewhere like a warehouse again, since there was no way he’d suffer through the cold of such places in his state. Thankfully, judging by his company, that seemed unlikely.

Out of all the chaos, as they pulled away from Baker Street, John decided to have one last parting thought.

“If I wind up in some place like Buckingham Palace in just this bloody sheet, I might just shoot someone.”


	2. Chapter 2

He was going to shoot someone.

John should’ve known his luck, grumbling as he continued to walk down the glittering hallway. Of course it wouldn’t be just some place _like_ Buckingham Palace. It literally _was_ Buckingham Palace. 

He avoided any curious looks from whatever staff happened to be nearby as he continued to head towards the room he was instructed to wait in. In fact, he held his head a little higher and straightened his shoulders a little more. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted to at least maintain some air of dignity, even if he was two seconds away from possibly flashing his bits to someone with a title. 

He turned towards the room where he was supposed to be, and immediately froze. There, sitting on an antique sofa and looking like a child put in time-out, was Sherlock Holmes. Said man looked up at him as he entered. John gave Sherlock an expectant look, hoping for an explanation, but the man just shrugged his shoulders and bundled his coat closer to his person.

The _Lucky bastard._

John finally walked over and sat down, fidgeting as he tried to get comfortable while staying covered. The coldness from Sherlock’s stint out in the country was still present, and it radiated off the man and hit John, along with the scent of grass, dew and hints of what was just characteristic of the man next to him. John clenched his jaw, fighting off any form of arousal, which was made even more difficult when he felt those piercing steel-like eyes burn on him. John just about snapped at him when he made a show of his ogling, leaning back to take all of John in.

“You’re not wearing any pants.” The baritone voice stated matter-of-factly.

“Nope.” John quipped, the “p” popping as he looked towards the side. He got a deep humming in response. 

After a few moments of avoiding the man’s gaze, he finally looked at the man, whose lips were quirking in amusement. The awkwardness, the downright absurdity of it all hit John and he immediately burst into a fit of giggling, causing Sherlock to do the same. Their shoulders shook and John almost let go of his sheet to wipe his eyes to fight the tears, he was laughing so hard.

“Ah, Buckingham Palace.” John mused. “I am seriously fighting the urge to steal an ashtray.”

“Don’t know where you’d put it.” Sherlock mused, still chuckling.

“Oh, I could think of some places.” John mused, giggling once again as Sherlock looked away, laughing harder. Eventually, he regained himself, shaking his head and staring at the ceiling. “What are we doing here, Sherlock?” Another snort from the man. “No, seriously, what?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock merely responded. 

John turned to Sherlock, just as he heard footsteps approaching. “Are we here to see the Queen?”

Sherlock was about to answer, only to turn to take in their visitor and, as John had suspected, it was Mycroft in one of his typical three-piece suits. “Oh! Apparently, yes.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst into another fit of laughter, Sherlock joining in as Mycroft’s lips pursed as he continued his approach.

“Just once,” The elder Holmes pressed, “Could you two behave like grown-ups?”

John cut his laughter short, clearing his throat and trying to sound as professional as possible while red-faced and barely covered. “Well, we solve crimes, I blog about it, and he destroys my pants.” He pressed, fighting the urge to giggle. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.”

Mycroft seemed to take in John’s state of dress, or undress for the matter, for what seemed to be the first time. “Yes, he does have a penchant for the dramatic.”

Sherlock’s amusement immediately disappeared. “Why are we here, Mycroft?”

Mycroft bent down over the table, and John finally noticed what was set there. “Important matters first.”

With that, Mycroft picked up the suit that was on the table and held it out towards John. It looked expensive, all-black, and completely against his usual attire, but he wasn’t about to complain. They were clothes after all. But just as John moved to take them, Sherlock immediately seized John’s arm in an iron-like grip.

“Sherlock!” John hissed. 

“Don’t take those until we know why we’re here.” Sherlock insisted, glaring at his brother as he straightened.

Mycroft, in response gave his brother a look. “While I don’t mind your shift in relationship with Doctor Watson, Sherlock, I must protest your desire to see him in such a state at this time.” He said, causing John to resemble a tomato. “We are in Buckingham Palace, the seat of power in the British Empire. Sherlock Holmes, let John Watson put his trousers on!”

“Whatever for?” Sherlock sniped back.

“Sherlock, please!” John insisted, shifting his arm away. “I’ve been walking around in this bloody thing all day! I’m uncomfortable, and more importantly, I’m _cold_!”

“Please, John. You’ve never complained before!” Sherlock snapped as John sputtered. Despite that, Sherlock did finally remove his coat and draped it over John’s figure. “There. Now, Mycroft, why was it so important to drag me from a case, and John out in his attempt at recreating a toga?”

“Due to your rise in fame over the past several months, your name has reached rather important ears.” Mycroft pressed indignantly as he lowered the clothes in his hands. “You have a potential client, and they will be here in a few short moments. Now, I must insist that you let the good doctor here make himself presentable!”

As John reached out a hand to finger Sherlock’s coat, he thought he would finally be able to get some proper clothes on now that Sherlock had an answer.

“Who’s the client?” Apparently, Sherlock didn’t like that answer.

If it kept going like this, John was half-tempted to just let go of the sheet and put his clothes on right in front of the indignant duo and whoever this potential client was. 

As they kept bickering, whoever Mycroft was expecting finally entered. Mycroft turned to greet the man, and John rose to do the same. He might be naked, but he was at least going to be polite. 

“John Watson.” The man greeted, shaking his barely-outstretched hand. Thankfully, the man was polite enough to ignore his state of undress. “It’s a pleasure. I’m quite a fan of your blog.”

John wanted to look smug, but he decided against it. It was hard, and rather inappropriate, when you were bundled up in nothing but a sheet with your partner’s coat hanging off your shoulders.

Speaking of partner, the man was introducing himself to Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes. Also a pleasure.” He said. “Although you always seem taller in your photographs. What’s your secret?”

“A good coat and a short partner.” Sherlock quipped. “Now, if that’s all, Mycroft-.”

“Sherlock, please.” Mycroft hissed. “Listen to reason-.”

“No, Mycroft. You drag me out here, you drag _John_ out here, despite his state of undress, and you just expect me to perform for you like a trained dog?” Sherlock snapped and John jumped as the man pulled him into his side. “If you’re not going to tell me whom this client is, we’re going to leave.”

With that, he nodded at the man and began to leave, steering a stumbling John with him. “Afternoon!”

John wanted to stop him, wanted to hear more about the case himself, or at least put on the clothes that were left out for him on the table. Sherlock, however, was persistent, and strong for such a thin, lanky man and continued to drag John behind him. He couldn’t really fight him off in this state, anyway.

Just as John thought that they were in the clear, that they’d at least get back to the flat so he could change, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened. John felt a tug as the sheet he had on caught on something, and before he could clutch it more tightly, it slipped from his fingers. Fumbling, he barely managed to snag it and clutch it to his waist, Sherlock’s coat flying off his shoulders in the fuss. Sherlock, who was confused as to why John remained firm on his spot, whipped around stared at John’s predicament with wide eyes.

“What the hell!?” John snapped as Sherlock glared behind him.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock hissed, and John turned his head to see the elder Holmes standing on his sheet, their guest ogling John’s scarred shoulder. 

“For once in your life could you grow up!” Mycroft hissed.

“Get off his sheet!” Sherlock snarled, stomping over.

“Or what?”

“Or we’ll just… walk away!”

“I’ll let you.”

“ _Boys_!!!” John shouted, causing them all to look at him. He stood there, body angled to glare at the men currently behind him. All three were staring at him with a mix of surprise and fear. He decided to use his best commanding voice to help him in this situation. “Let me tell you something. I’ve not only had to deal with your kidnapping, Mycroft, and your blasted experiment, Sherlock, but I’ve only had four hours of sleep, a half a cup of tea, no clothes, no _pants_ , and now I’m in Buckingham Palace about to show the queen herself my royal jewels! I am not going to put up with this anymore!”

When he was finished, Mycroft seemed just a bit ashamed of himself, their guest was trying to hide his laughter, and Sherlock seemed both terrified and aroused at the same time. 

“Now!” John continued. “Sherlock, I’m only going to say this once: just do what Mycroft wants for christ’s sake! Mycroft, just tell Sherlock who the hell the bloody client is, get off the damn sheet, and give me those goddamned clothes!”

Sherlock seemed indignant, but he turned to Mycroft. “Tell me first.”

Mycroft let out a deep sigh. “Someone who is going to be married very shortly, and cannot afford a scandal.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly, obviously pleased.

“Happy now?” John hissed as Mycroft finally stepped off the sheet. 

“Quite.” Sherlock said, stepping over to pick up his coat. John flushed when he stayed crouched far longer than necessary.

“Are you quite done?” Mycroft called as he came back with John’s clothes.

Sherlock glared at his brother, but stood and draped his coat over John’s shoulders. As if he couldn’t resist, he leaned in towards John as the ex-army doctor managed to juggle holding the sheet and slipping the coat on, obviously a better cover so he could go get changed. 

“You should not wear pants more often.” He purred, straightening as John's face went beet red. “Shall John bare himself here, or is there somewhere else he can go to change?”

Thankfully, they directed him towards a restroom, where he slammed the door in Sherlock’s face before he could go in himself and “help John get dressed”. Inside, John dropped the sheet and coat and reveled in the clothes he put on. They were far too dressed up for his taste, a tailored black suit and an equally black dress shirt and shoes, but he didn’t care. It was the first time in his life that he thought he’d never go naked again.

He left the room, leaving the sheet behind, tossing a slightly slack-jawed Sherlock his coat and accompanied the man back to the sitting room. Once seated and given tea, they were given the details of the case: A dominatrix with a phone filled with incriminating photos that needed to be confiscated lest they be leaked. After agreeing to take the case, and taking a lighter for good measure, they got into a cab to head back to the flat to develop their plan. 

Sherlock had just revealed a stolen ashtray to John, causing the man to burst into a fit of giggles, when the consulting detective slid down the seat and pressed his side into John’s. 

“I should destroy your clothes more often.” He practically purred in a still-amused John’s ear. “I do like you in that suit. Of course, it would look exceptionally better on the floor.”

John snorted. Months ago, he would be flushed, aroused, and stumbling for words after Sherlock said such a thing. Now, it was easier to deflect. Not that Sherlock was no longer attractive or arousing, but John had more self-control. Such teasing innuendo was child’s play now, and John found that Sherlock enjoyed the witty sexually-charged banter. 

“I would hope so.” He replied, tucking at his own lapels. “This thing probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.”

“More like half.” Sherlock cut in, smirking and now fingering John’s clothes, worrying the fabric between his fingers. “Perhaps, before we go after Miss Adler, we should celebrate our victory over the previous case. We do owe ourselves that much.”

John grinned at him. Of course Sherlock solved it. The man himself had ranked it as one of the simpler cases they’ve taken. Plus, it was a standing tradition, since they got together, to plaster themselves together once a case was finished.

The dressed-up army doctor tugged on his partner’s coat, watching his pupils dilate as he reeled the man in. John licked his lips, seeing Sherlock’s pulse thrum, and he tilted his head to whisper something that made Sherlock’s eyes widen considerably.

“You’re going to have to do my laundry first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter's more choppy than it's predecessor. And I apologize for the delay. I do hope you enjoyed this piece nonetheless!


End file.
